


Versus II

by babyrubysoho



Series: Versus [2]
Category: Nightmare (Band)
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Philanthropist Ni~ya, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submissive Sakito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyrubysoho/pseuds/babyrubysoho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unlooked-for sequel to plotless wonder Versus. Because Ni~ya just gets hotter, and Sakito's outfits just get skimpier.<br/>Ni~ya continues his philanthropic mission to persuade Sakito into good behaviour. And when it comes to his guitarist, the line between carrot and stick is practically invisible.</p><p>Contains mild BDSM themes, so if that does not float your boat please skip this one!</p><p>*Note: I am currently transferring 12 years’ worth of my fic from various murky corners of the Net to AO3. So if this looks familiar, that’s probably why. Either that or I’m just appallingly unoriginal…*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Versus II

Remember the other week? That drunken and very enlightening encounter I had with Sakito, late at night in the studio? Yeah, me too. Oh yes.

I gotta say, I wasn’t sure the next morning if I hadn’t dreamed the whole thing: ice-princess Sakito, naked in my arms begging for me to hurt him? Yeah, very likely.

But at practice the next day I watched him closer than usual, and after catching one flash of those dark, uneasy, amorous eyes of his and the faint outline of a bruise well hidden under makeup, I knew it was true.

And I remember what he promised me, after I gave him what he wanted, I remember the reason this whole thing started in the first place; and there _is_ the reason, sitting cross-legged opposite Yomi and scoffing down noodle cup like it was going out of fashion. I look speculatively at our youngest member, at his earnest face and sweet, sweet smile even if it is made by a mouthful of metal, and know he’ll never get Sakito by himself, not now I know what it is that Sakito needs. And he’s so in love with Sakito it only seems fair… What a great person I am.

I’ve been watching Sakito all the time since then, to see if he’s been doing what I told him. And, after a fashion, he has. No-one can turn on the charm like him, it seems, and he’s been exercising it on Hitsu at every opportunity, sharing his lunch, sharing his seat, making as much body contact as possible and in general being nice as pie.

Doesn’t seem to have made much difference though to tell the truth, even though every time I catch Sakito alone I slam him up against a wall and reiterate my instructions into his pretty ear over his unsteady, excited breathing.

I sigh to myself. Looks like we’ll have to try something else. I move up behind Sakito, who is standing there looking like he just fell from heaven and nibbling something calorie-free. His skin goosebumps as he registers my proximity. I lean one arm companionably on his slender shoulder and with the other I run my nails lightly down his back.

“When we finish the photoshoot we’re going back to the studio, right?” I ask brightly. He nods apprehensively.

“Fine. Next break we have, go and wait in that one room down the corridor.”

“Why?” he whispers nervously.

“Never mind why”, I hiss back, jabbing him in the hip. “Just be there.”

 

* * *

 

 

Later, when Yomi and Hitsugi are engaged in tea and biscuits and Ruka’s sitting there looking as unresponsive and out of it as usual, I slip out of the room and down the corridor to the adjacent studio. I can’t recall who usually uses it, but apparently they’re on tour now and it’s empty, half-dark and silent.

When I get in there I see Sakito standing near the back wall, slim arms wrapped around his scantily clad self. Immediate tension as he registers me and freezes, giving me that rabbit-in-the-headlights stare that I’m getting to like more and more. Well it’s very flattering, to think that I’m the only guy that little mister perfect has ever looked at with real desire.

I advance on him slowly and he doesn’t back away this time, just starts to shiver imperceptibly. I stop a foot away from him, letting my eyes run up and down his willowy frame, his white skin shimmering faintly under the dimmed lights. Honestly, I think the wardrobe girls spend about three seconds thinking up Sakito’s costumes these days: two tiny tea-towels and a sliver of PVC, that pretty much sums it up. Not that any of us are complaining.

“Well. How’s it coming along?” I ask, loving the way he flinches at the sound of my voice, the faint worried crease between his feathery eyebrows. I know he knows what I’m talking about, but he just drops his gaze in pretended confusion, onyx eyes hidden behind a long veil of dark lashes.

“It’s, I mean, I -”

“Have you got him yet?” Is he deliberately trying to antagonise me? Probably. I take another step forward, now I can feel the heat coming off him, his bare skin almost brushing my shirt. “You’ve been very sweet to Hitsu this last week. I’ve been watching you. So, has it worked?”

He shakes his pretty head, luxurious braided hair extensions cascading like a black river down his back.

“I didn’t think so.”

“He doesn’t seem to be able to take a hint!” he protests softly, his low, quiet voice vibrating with apprehension just on the edge of hearing. I grin inwardly; Sakito is so easy to steer now I have the key, as it were. I reach out and run my fingers gently down his neck, feeling the pulse skip under his skin. He still doesn’t look at me.

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough”, I suggest conversationally. “Don’t you think?”

Now he meets my eyes and I see a mutinous little spark in his gaze that tells me I’m right.

“Maybe because it’s not what I want.”

That won’t do at all, I think to myself. Swiftly I backhand him across the face, not viciously but hard enough that he stumbles backwards against the wall. Then he lets out a yelp of pained surprise and pushes himself upright, quick as a shot as the backs of his slim thighs come into contact with the radiator. I raise an eyebrow, lean forward and touch it gingerly for a couple of seconds. It’s uncomfortably hot but not scalding; trust Sakito to be bloody super-sensitive.

“Stay where you’re put”, I purr at him, fake anger but it seems to convince him. I press up against him, my body airless-tight against his, pushing him back to the soundproofed wall, my hands capturing his delicate wrists. He doesn’t cry out this time, just inhales a sharp, pained breath; and now his eerily beautiful face, inches away from mine, holds an expression of tremulous, uneasy pleasure.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper; he nods and I press my cheek against his, rubbing my mouth across the fine skin of his neck, pale as milk, tasting the faint tang of fear and arousal. Sakito really is one peculiar guy.

“I don’t get you”, I murmur between kisses. “Didn’t it hurt just then, too? Why do you like it _now_?”

“I… I just…”

“Hmm?” I release one of his wrists to tug on his dark, shining fall of hair.

“Let me up”, he pleads, whispering. “I can’t think…”

I wrap an arm around his tiny waist and pull him forwards. He sighs, relieved, and steadies himself against me; I let my hand caress the back of his thigh, feeling the pliant flesh flicker with red heat beneath my fingers. He lets out another sigh, this time one of satisfaction, and seems to move even closer if that were possible. Dammit. I’m getting turned on again and I distinctly remember telling myself that this would be a strictly philanthropic encounter. I wonder if he’s being deliberately manipulative; maybe I should stop it now, but I’m actually kind of interested in exactly what makes him tick.

“So what is it with you?” I continue, trying to sound objective and in control. “I know pain’s your thing.”

Amazingly he appears to contradict me, shaking his head, although he seems a little dazed and I’m not a hundred percent sure he knows what I’m asking.

“You’re wrong”, he manages. “Pain like that doesn’t get me off”.

I stare at him sceptically and then he stares right back, his voice dropping to a low, sure whisper.

“It’s taking pain because you want me to feel it. That’s what I love.”

His eyes are stupid with yearning, and at his words I figure screw it; I deserve to play a little for being such a great guy; and besides, I can’t help it. I lean down and kiss him deeply, loving the way he yields so desperately, his mouth slipping against mine in fevered craving as I run my hands over his abundance of bare skin. He parts his perfect lips obediently at a nudge from my tongue and I taste him again, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this; but I’m sure I had some point to make.

When I tear my mouth away from his he moans quietly, a little soft song of protest that makes me want to kiss him again, lose myself in the contact but I don’t. Instead I drag my hands bruisingly over his gently curving hips and rip away the sheer white fabric, the flimsy buckle giving under the force and leaving him practically naked in his tiny shorts. I tug him against me, resting my chin on his shoulder so I can see down his back, and yank his arms up behind him, using the fabric to tie each wrist to the opposite elbow. A pretty gasp of pleasure and he presses himself harder against me as if we were fused together.

“Stop it”, I mutter into his neck, the feeling of his hip against my groin very distracting. I tug hard to make sure he’s bound securely, smiling faintly as I note the gentle dip where the fabric bites into his taut flesh.

With that I step back, half relieved to be removed from that intoxicatingly subservient body; I caress his graceful neck with one hand, feeling myself being gazed at rapturously, an unusual but pleasant feeling. I pull myself together.

“You’re really going to have to try harder, Sakito.”

Again that pretty furrowing of his brow. I have no idea why Sakito persists in acting like a brainless beauty at moments like this; there’s a quick intellect in there somewhere, though you wouldn’t think it from the half-glazed, dumbly begging look he’s giving me. It’s absolutely infuriating. I still my soothing fingers and press my thumb lightly into the hollow at the base of his soft throat. As I increase the pressure he lets out a tiny, hitching whine and his bewitching eyes flutter closed, he leans into the breathless pain hopefully. Looks like I was way off the mark if I expected this to get his attention, he looks more spaced out than ever.

I breathe a short, irritated sigh through my nose. I hope I get some gratitude from _someone_ for all this trouble I‘m going to. Abruptly I score a sharp line down his breastbone with one long nail, no longer caring if I mark him, just wanting his attention back on me. There’s that famous self-centredness again; Sakito takes it for granted that the world revolves around him, but just because it’s _true_ doesn’t mean he can get uppity about it.

“Ahh!” That got his attention at least. The eyes are open again and fixed on me, his smooth skin beginning to slick with sweat at the intensity of the sensations he’s been feeling. I fold my arms.

“I’ll agree with you that nice probably isn’t going to cut it with Hitsu. He’s so nice himself that he’ll just think you’re a lovely person, and we both know _that_ isn’t true by now, right?”

Sakito wisely maintains silence at this point, waiting like a superb piece of sculpture for me to get where I’m going. Where was I going? Oh yeah.

“So if you can’t make nice work, let’s try nasty.”

“What?”

“Come on Sakito, you’re band leader. I’ve heard you nag Ruka, I know you can be a bitch when you want to.”

Hah. Band leader. Who’d believe it if they saw us now. He’s looking delightfully perplexed still. How the hell am I supposed to keep cool in the face of so much shattering beauty? I close the distance between us instantly and kiss him again roughly and he returns it ravenously. He understands _that_ , anyway. I twist my hand into his black locks, pulling forcefully but steadily until he has to break away from my mouth and either kneel or lose a fistful of hair. I keep my hold on it, tilting his head back so I can see his face.

“It’ll be easy. You know how fine the line is between anger and desire. For you it doesn’t even seem to fucking _exist_. Make him angry enough to hurt you and he’s yours.”

He looks unsure about this leap of logic so I slap him sharply across the left cheek, twice in quick succession and add, “See? Desire.”

He nods, the mark of my hand glowing red across his high cheekbone, leans forward tentatively as though he’s unbalanced by his tied hands, and presses his elegant mouth to my stomach, the small strip of skin where the bottom of my shirt is unbuttoned. His lips are warm and silky, and I know I shouldn’t have let him get this far because it’s going to be _impossible_ to back away from him now. He lowers his head to kiss my growing arousal through cloth and my fingers dig into his scalp involuntarily; I pull his head back sharply enough to make him wince.

“So, will you try it my way?” I ask, determined to get _something_ productive out of this before he touches me again and I kiss coherent thought goodbye. He raises those dark eyes to me again with a mixture of demand and naivety.

“I will, if…”

“Fine, fine”, I butt in, as though this were a tedious chore. I loosen my grip on his hair and watch with mixed amusement and impatience as his mouth makes contact again, his small white teeth tugging at the button of my trousers. A small, frustrated sound from deep in his throat. I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to do it, not without his hands free, especially since I’m guessing he has little practice, not aloof, unavailable Sakito.

I help him out with my left hand, a little tingle running up my spine as he delicately covers one of my fingers with his mouth, muted, earnest touch. Then my underwear is down around my thighs and I know I’ll look incredibly and immensely stupid if anyone walks in right now, but who the hell cares. An anxious glance from his mahogany eyes, then his pink tongue flicks out to meet the tip of my arousal and I _really_ wish I had something to lean against right now. He looks up at me for approbation and seems to see it, because now his lashes hide those beautiful eyes sultrily and his refined mouth covers the head of my erection, tongue stroking the underside deliciously. I can’t help it, my nails dig into his skin where I’m holding onto his hair, the spiralling, visceral sensation of it too delightful, and I tug his lovely head forward till I’m deeply inside him.

He makes a little panicked sound and his throat tightens; I realise he has no idea what he’s doing and let him pull himself back, even though it feels so good it’s a wrench to leave the warmth of his mouth. He coughs lightly once or twice, waiting to see whether or not I’ll hit him. I just twine my hand more tightly in his dishevelled hair, guiding him back to my dick.

“Slow down”, I tell him, and he nods and begins again, skin flushed faintly and his cheekbone beginning to bruise. I guide the pace for him, relishing the little sounds that issue from his throat and the feeling of his lips moving over my sensitised skin. I always knew Sakito was smart… after some practice he’ll be phenomenal, most likely. I begin to thrust gently into his mouth, moving faster; he spreads his knees further to balance, I hear a surprised, muffled gasp and I can’t think clearly at all now, completely lost in the physical.

“Sakito…”

I never thought I’d say his name with such desire and I guess he never thought so either, because he finds some reserve of energy somewhere, taking me deeper and deeper until I think my knees might collapse; my stamina is no match for his inexperienced fervour and I bite my lip to stop myself yelling out loud as I climax, feeling him freeze, trying to fight his gag reflex.

I blink down at him stupidly but eventually manage to unclench my hands and release his hair, panting like I’ve run a race. I’m so bloody unfit. He sinks down, gulping in warm air in between coughs. I make myself decent again and crouch down in front of him, taking hold of his chin gently and tilting his head up to face me. He’s never looked more exquisite, large eyes wide and damp, fine skin blushing like a sunrise through porcelain, struggling to relax his breathing.

“You did want this”, I remind him, not wanting him to regret it too much. He nods tremulously, waiting for the slap and when I deliver it he smiles for the first time.

“Good.” It’s still unfathomable to me as I look at Sakito that I’m the first person to be so intimate with him. How lucky can you get?! I untie him and then give him a long, slow stare, taking in the scratches on his chest, the hot red mark on the back of his long leg, the bruising along his cheekbone. Unlikely as it is, he blossoms further with every wound I deal him and now looks so lovely it’s hard to stick to my great plan. But I didn’t go to all this effort for nothing.

I stand up and straighten my clothing.

“Sort yourself out”, I tell him brusquely. “And then we’ll see how cruel _you_ can be.”

I leave him looking half satisfied and half agitated, and walk purposefully out of the room. Then I shut the door behind me and run to sit in the bathroom until I’m calm enough to go back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing Sakito and trying out different things with him (ahem). But I think he actually works better as an S than an M. To see more of mean, sexy Dictator Sakito, try my later "Cherish" series :)


End file.
